Valentine's Victory
by PhDelicious
Summary: What if Grissom and Sara had had a relationship just after she came to Vegas? How would that impact their attempts to start a relationship in the present? Set after my fic Should Auld Acquaintance be Forgot. Rated for sexual situations and language.
1. Moving Memories

Chapter 1: Moving Memories  
PhDelicious  
Rating: M

Disclaimer: I have no control over anything that happens to these characters outside of this story. The characters themselves belong to CBS, Zucker, etc.

A/N: It's a little late for a Valentine's fic, but better late than never right? Some of you will recognize the first part of this story as it was written as part of the great GeekFiction Smut-a-thon of 2006. Parts of it have since been edited to comply with the content restrictions here, but not too much. It is part of my little holiday fluff series, meaning it takes place after "Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot"

* * *

Grissom's eyes flicked back and forth between the box in his hands and SUV in front of him. Mentally he packed and repacked the vehicle, but in the end he had to concede; there was no more room in the car. What was he doing packing up her car anyways? This was crazy. He hefted the box and turned to head back inside, stopping abruptly as he almost plowed straight into a floating box. The cardboard container wasn't actually levitating; he knew that Sara was somewhere behind it, even if he couldn't see her. There was a grunt, followed by a muffled curse, and a loud thud as the monstrous box dropped to the sidewalk.

"That's the…last…one," panted Sara, as she placed her hands on her thighs to help hold herself up.

"Yes, well it's not going to fit in there." Grissom glanced significantly at the packed car.

"Which is why I called Greg," she responded, still slightly winded from moving boxes around for the past few hours. She stood up, moving her hands to her hips, and arched her back to stretch. Grissom's eyes were drawn to the butterfly brazenly emblazoned on her chest. It was the same shirt she'd been wearing all afternoon, but the glittery, inaccurate excuse for a butterfly seemed specifically designed to capture his interest. "How come you look like you're merely taking a stroll in the park?"

"Because I haven't been trying to carry boxes that weigh more than I do."

"Well no wonder there's not enough room. I'm going to have to teach you how to pack more efficiently." Sara rolled her eyes.

"You can teach me anything you want," he teased.

"Griss." Sara groaned and turned to head back towards the apartment building. "Come on, let's wait inside."

"But what about…"

"Just leave it." She didn't even stop to look back at him.

"But…"

"Seriously, who's going to try to steal a box of books that big, let alone one full of entomology and forensics texts?" This time she turned to face him, grinning.

"What if…"

"It's not supposed to rain 'til Sunday, and since Greg should be here in less than an hour I don't think that's going to be a problem. Now, I'm sure you can think of some much better ways to spend that time than standing out here guarding my books." She waggled her eyebrows, turned slowly and sauntered away with a little more hip than usual.

Now it was his turn to groan as his entire body tingled in response to her walk, the sway of her hips bringing up memories, among other things. He couldn't believe she was his. Carefully balancing his box on top of the one she had left behind Grissom followed Sara inside. He caught up to her, or rather she caught him, just inside the door of her apartment, pressing him into the wall with her body and rising up to kiss him hard. His hands rose tentatively at first, to skim over her cheeks and tangle in her hair, before he returned the pressure of her mouth with his. The small sound of contentment that issued from her as his grip tightened reminded him that this was not a dream, not elaborate fantasy, but truth, actuality. He was standing in her apartment, with his back up against the wall and Sara Sidle's tongue in his mouth. He, Gil Grissom, was a lucky bastard.

They were both breathing hard and trembling when Sara broke the kiss and sagged against him, dropping her head so that it rested in the crook of his neck.

"Thank you," she mouthed against his skin.

His arms wrapped around her waist and squeezed tightly; the light pressure of his lips on her hair added to the surrealism of the moment. She couldn't believe he was doing this for her, allowing her into his life so suddenly after all this time. They'd only ever slept together a couple of times, and that had been years ago. In fact it had only been a month since he'd kissed her for the first time in five years, and he had just spent the afternoon helping her pack her clothes, books and art into boxes. Suddenly she wasn't so sure about this plan; restless, she put some space between them.

Sensing her shift in mood Grissom dropped his arms from around her, but she grasped them before he freed her completely and laced her fingers through his. Looking down at their twined hands she started to speak.

"Griss, I…Are you…"

"Yes, I'm sure Sara. Everything's going to be fine. C'mon, I'll show you." Grissom shifted away from the wall and began to back through the apartment towards her bedroom with Sara following.

She smiled coyly at him. "This was never the problem, even if you have been holding out on me recently."

"Maybe something's changed," he teased.

"Some things, but not this. I think I was born knowing how to do this with you. Remember our first time?"

"It was a long time ago." His tone was more serious this time, but the flare of passion and recognition in his eyes gave her hope.

"Yeah, well I think I was the one dragging you down the hallway that time."

CSICSICSI

She really hated the first day of a new job, any job. Being the new girl anywhere sucked. Being the new girl who'd been brought in specifically to investigate someone everyone loved should have been, in her opinion, one of Dante's levels of Hell. So she almost ignored the echo of her name across the parking lot in her desire to get somewhere that she could throw something. If it had been anyone other than Grissom, she would have.

"What?" The question came out more tersely than she would have liked and she thumped her hands on the hood of her rental car in frustration.

"I know this…I thought you might…would you like to get coffee with me?"

Surprise at his awkwardness caused Sara to turn from the car and face Grissom. The confident scientist she'd come to know from their correspondence and phone calls, who'd been in evidence ever since she'd arrived at his crime scene that morning, had disappeared. The man standing in front of her looked suspiciously like an awkward geek asking his first crush for a date. Her eyes flicked around the parking lot.

"Gil, I…" Not really wanting to turn him down, but too tired to sign herself up for more forced politeness, Sara changed tactics. "Isn't there something else you'd usually be doing now?"

"Going home alone to write you an email about how shitty my day was." His reply was quick and sure. "I just…you're here…I thought maybe…"

"All right, but I need something stronger than coffee. I think my hotel has a bar."

"Sara, this is Vegas. Every motel has three things: rooms, slot machines, and a bar, even the cheap ones that the Department puts visitors up in. I'll drive."

"I can drive Gil; I have a car."

"True, but traffic is horrendous at this time of morning. You'll just end up getting frustrated. You can catch a cab back tomorrow. Let's go."

With one last longing look at her rental car and the privacy it offered, Sara followed Grissom to his car. However, by the time they reached her hotel she was incredibly glad she'd accepted his offer. His assessment of Las Vegas traffic had not been overstated.

"Thanks for driving Gil." Sara hopped out of the car and as she headed for the nearest hotel entrance he caught up to her and they walked side by side, arms brushing in accidental contact that sent shivers down her spine. The day came crashing down on her again as they stepped into the small gaudy lobby. Looking across at the garish bar Sara sighed. She turned to Grissom. "Gil, I'm sorry I'm so tired and frustrated; I don't think I'd be very good company right now."

"I should be the one who's apologizing," he said after a pause in which he scanned her appearance. "I shouldn't impose like this on your first night here. I'm sure you're exhausted."

Disappointment was clearly written on his face and she couldn't bear to let him down.

"You know what? I bet I'll feel better after I change out of these clothes." She headed towards the small bank of elevators. The lack of pressure against her arm let her know that Grissom was no longer beside her. She turned back to see him watching her. "Well?"

"What? I'm just going to wait…"

Sara cut him off, striding back to him to firmly grasp his bicep and drag him through the lobby.

"Don't be silly. C'mon, I'm not going to jump you." She smoothed her thumb over the skin exposed by his short-sleeved polo shirt. "Not unless you ask anyways."

By the time they got to her room his reluctance was merely for show. He followed her inside meekly and sat down on the bed without hesitation when she gave him a playful shove. As Sara riffled through her suitcase she made a decision. Pulling out a pair of loose drawstring pants and a well worn tank top she headed for the bathroom to change. As she passed the mini-fridge she stopped and pulled out a small handful of bottles. Tossing them at Grissom she disappeared into the bathroom.

"Sara?"

"I don't feel particularly social. Let's stay in."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't want to have to spend another minute of my day watching myself, worrying that the wrong person will overhear an off-hand comment and repeat it."

"And you don't have to worry about that with me?"

"Gil," she emerged from the bathroom and moved to drop her clothes on the lone chair. "If you were that type of person I wouldn't be here, in Vegas. Relax."

Sara lifted a small bottle of vodka from the bed, unscrewed the cap, and downed it in one long pull.

"Oh God," she choked. "That's bad vodka. I wonder if this one's any better."

She grabbed another small bottle off the bed and downed it as swiftly as the first. Grissom would have been concerned, but the look on her face as she almost spit the alcohol right back up had him laughing instead.

"Nope, their tequila is even worse." Sara collapsed backwards onto the bed with a frustrated huff.

Grissom looked back and forth between the beautiful brunette stretched out beside him and the two empty bottles on the dresser. He decided to go for it and grabbed one of the remaining bottles. He scooted back against the headboard and drained his bottle. "This really is awful stuff. Why do I feel so awkward?"

Sara rolled over and pushed up slightly onto her forearms, her tank top pulled dangerously low over her chest. "Being face to face removes the illusion of safety that comes with the distance of phone calls and emails. There's no chance to go back and rewrite something if it doesn't come out the right way the first time. It's harder to mask your reactions and misdirect the conversation."

She pushed up on her hands, raising her upper body off the bed, and slid her knees forward to support her weight. Grissom watched fascinated as she crawled towards him, still speaking in low husky tones. "For example, if we were talking on the phone I wouldn't be able to see the desire in your eyes when I told you I missed seeing you, and if I wrote it in an email I wouldn't even be able to hear the change in your voice when you replied."

She held herself before him, the angle of her body giving him a perfect view of the gap between her breasts, barely clothed in thin stretch cotton. Her eyes left his face and traveled slowly over his chest and down to his hips.

"I've dreamed of you Gil," she whispered as she moved to straddle him, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

Grissom's head dropped back against the headboard and his eyes rolled up towards the ceiling. With that one murmured confession he went from mildly fascinated to achingly hard and entranced, and Sara had yet to touch him. He held himself utterly still as she sat back, her weight coming to rest on his upper thighs. One hand reached forward and her fingers trailed lightly over his cheek and down his neck to rest on his shoulder.

"Am I crazy Gil? Have I made more of the past than I should have?"

He tried to answer, but found his throat too dry as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. She lingered over him long enough for his motor control to return and one of his hands threaded itself into her hair, pulling her hard against him. She gasped in surprise and he slid his tongue into her mouth, wrapping it around hers and tugging lightly. She followed him. He moaned, half in pain, as her nails dug into his shoulder at her first taste of him. He tried to pull back, but she scooted forward so that she was now sitting in his lap.

"Sara…maybe we shouldn't…you had…" He couldn't seem to form a coherent thought as she rubbed against him. He had difficulty voicing the few words that did float through his conscience as her lips and tongue pulled empty syllables from him instead. Drawing together the unraveling threads of his self-control Grissom yanked back sharply with the hand in her hair, and pushed lightly on Sara's shoulder. His actions backfired however as Sara gasped with arousal and arched backwards to relieve the tension on her scalp, pressing her breasts into his chest. They both panted heavily for a few moments before she spoke, her eyes still slightly glazed with passion.

"I'm sure Gil. I wanted to do this years ago. All you had to do was ask."

"You deserved more than a one night stand Sara, still do."

"But we're here now and who knows how long I'll be in Vegas."

The hand that wasn't clutching his shoulder found a crack in his armor, where his shirt had become separated from his pants, and it slipped inside to land lightly on the soft skin of his stomach. Fingers slid over the ridges of his abdomen gathering information as if reading Braille. He looked down, almost startled to find that his shirt still blocked his view of her slim digits caressing him. The thought had barely flitted across his mind when her second hand came down to join the first and together they shoved his shirt up his chest. Grissom raised his arms to allow Sara to remove it completely. When his arms were free again he moved them to grasp her hips and pull her tightly down over him.

She sat back and studied him carefully, before leaning forward and slowly painting a path from his breastbone to just below his ear with her tongue. She nipped gently at his throat and then she laid her lips over the tendon at the base of his neck and sucked until his hips bucked against her. Sara sat back grinning smugly as his fingers tightened convulsively on her. She crossed her arms over her torso, grasped the hem of her tank top and yanked it over her head in a smooth motion, baring herself to him. He twitched underneath her and his hands raked up her sides to settle just underneath her breasts. Grissom ran his thumbs up the underside of her breast and out to the side, catching the tight peaks of her nipples between thumb and forefinger, applying pressure and a slight torque until her hips ground against him.

"Gil…" His name ghosted from her lips, and her voice had never sounded quite so aroused and arousing in his imaginings.

With a low growl, Grissom sat up, scooting away from the headboard to press his lower body more tightly against Sara. He bent his head and kissed his way along her collar bone and the down to tease her with his tongue. His hand smoothed down the length of her back, under her pants, and closed tightly over the bare skin of her ass. The realization that Sara was no longer wearing underwear flashed through him and he moved quickly to pin her to the mattress beneath him. As he eased back off her body and the bed he dragged her last piece of clothing with him.

She started to rise and come to him as he stood at the foot of the bed absorbing the details her nakedness revealed to him, but a growled command halted her. Instead she watched, fascinated, as Grissom stripped himself of his remaining clothing. Part of her was surprised at how confident he was, but, she ogled him openly, he had every right to such confidence. And then his hands were on her again and her brain returned to mush as his mouth, starting at the small tattoo on her ankle, followed the path of his hands up her legs.

He found her already wet and ready for him and his long fingers teased, over, and around, and in and out, while he shifted his weight to stretch along the length of her. Sara writhed beneath him, rocking against his hand. Linking the fingers of his free hand with hers, Grissom pressed into her and his hips picked up the rhythm they had created together, moving faster as her legs wrapped around him. She tightened and trembled around him, bringing him to the edge of his control. His fingers resumed their teasing, thumb circling, pressing down on her. Her head began to thrash on the pillow and his name fell repeatedly from her lips.

"Gil…oh God, Gil."

And then she came, thighs squeezing against his hips, hidden muscles contracting around him as he buried himself inside her, trying to ride through her pleasure. He began to move again after her peak had passed intent on driving her up and over again, but Sara had other ideas. Her nails scraped down his back and dug into his butt. She started to whisper a single word tauntingly in his ear and it was enough.

"Griss"

Light exploded behind his eyes and he emptied himself into her. He collapsed half on top of her, still holding her hand in his. When he had recovered enough he propped himself up on one elbow and released her hand to cup her cheek. He traced a calloused thumb across her lips and along her jaw, sliding his fingers into her hair and holding her head still.

"Stay," he said and her eyes widened uncertainly.

"Gil, this is my hotel room. I'm not going anywhere."

"In Vegas, at the lab, with me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She looked at him, quiet and unblinking for a long moment before answering simply.

"Okay."

"Good."

Grissom leaned down and kissed her, a gentle kiss. Then he laid himself alongside her, propping his head on one arm and draping the other over her. His fingers traced seemingly random patterns on the swell of her hip until they both fell asleep.

CSICSICSI

Distracted by the heat of memories that flushed through him, and focused fully on Sara, Grissom suddenly tripped over a random shoe lying in the middle of the hallway. He stumbled back into the door frame; his grip on Sara's wrists pulling her with him. She smacked into his chest with a muffled grunt. She shuffled her feet back under her and levered herself against him, pressing their lower bodies together, trying to stand.

"Well, hello," she purred as the action alerted her to his arousal. "Why didn't you say something Griss?"

Pressed intimately against him, Sara could feel Grissom twitch at the nickname.

"Griss?"

It happened again; his fingers tightened on her wrists and his hips rocked forward against her.

"Grissom?" There was no measurable response. She looked at him curiously and a faint blush crept across his cheeks. He shrugged self consciously.

"Ever since the first time…"

"Talk about word association. And you encouraged me to call you that at work?" she asked incredulously.

"Well at the time it seemed both more and less dangerous than letting you call me Gil."

"I wish I'd known," Sara said, turning her head to place her lips against his throat. "Griss."

This time she anticipated his response and increased the pressure of her hips against his as she whispered the magic word against his skin.

"Sara…" His voice was harsh with desire. "Do we have enough time for this before Greg gets here?"

He felt her lips lift against his neck. One of her hands twisted out of his grasp to slide around and stroke him through his pants. Grissom's head fell back and knocked against the doorframe.

"At this rate I don't think we'll need much time."

Sara pushed back from him and sauntered into her mostly packed bedroom, pulling her shirt off over her head as she went. As she turned to face him her hands reached behind her to unsnap her bra. He stared, wide-eyed, as she slipped first one strap then the other down her shoulder, removing the plain cotton in a slow tease. The sight of one of her hands reaching down to worry the button of her jeans while the other smoothed up her body to cup a breast, spurred him to action. Striding forward his fingers brushed against her smooth skin and hooked themselves into the waistband of her pants. A swift tug pulled her back against him and his lips crashed down on hers in a desperate kiss. She left off touching herself to touch Grissom, slipping her hands under his shirt and pushing up.

"God, Sara…it's been so…I've missed you, this, you." His words began to slur together as he broke the kiss to allow her to pull his shirt over his head. His hands fumbled, but he managed to get her jeans open and the zipper down. Without conscious thought he took advantage of the space and thick calloused fingers brushed over smooth skin and damp curls. He continued to whisper a litany of apologies between kisses as he stroked her. "So beautiful. So sorry."

Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, pressing her chest to his as she arched into his strokes. "Griss…"

Sara's eyes glazed over and her mind began to loose its hold on conscious thought when she realized the ringing in her ears wasn't just her imagination, but her phone. She tried to ignore it, but Grissom stopped moving. Groaning in frustration Sara stepped away from him, shuddering as his hand slipped out from beneath her underwear. She yanked the offending item from her pocket and punched the answer button angrily.

"What?"

It was Greg's voice that answered, speaking quickly. "I know you told me six, but there's been a quadruple at the Bellagio and swing's already overloaded. I told Brass I'd let you know."

At Sara's resigned sigh Grissom stepped up behind her and wrapping his arms around her, dropped a light kiss on her shoulder. "When did you become the message man?"

"Since I lost the vote on who got to interrupt you and Grissom."

"How did you know we were…"

"Ack! Stop! Too much info!"

She could picture the younger CSI sticking his fingers in his ears as the sound of his humming carried down the line. Grissom took the phone from her.

"We'll meet you there in twenty minutes." He hung up the phone without waiting for a response from Greg. With a final kiss to the base of her neck he stepped away and lifted his shirt from where it had fallen on the bed. "Duty calls."

"Duty calls." Sara echoed as she redressed herself and followed Grissom out of her apartment. "Duty sucks."

Sara locked the door behind them and they headed down the stairs to the parking lot. Two large boxes and a car packed so full that it could only fit one person greeted them.

"Shit!" muttered Sara under her breath. "Now what?"

At that moment the blast of a car horn echoed off the buildings. Grissom and Sara turned towards the sound. A window rolled down and Greg's voice floated across the lot.

"Need a ride?"

* * *

TBC… 


	2. Suplicant Sinners

Chapter 2: Supplicant Sinners  
PhDelicious  
Disclaimer: I still got nothing.

A/N: This chapter **contains spoilers for 6x15, "Pirates of the Third Reich" and **anything else with Lady Heather. Bring on the angst. Also a big thanks to Joan who's continued nagging andcommentaryhelped me keep my Muse on track.

* * *

Grissom couldn't remember a time when he'd been happier to have the next two days off. Normally he didn't take his days off back to back so that his CSIs could, but this time he had scheduled them so they were consecutive and overlapping with Sara's. That way they'd have plenty of time to finish moving her stuff into his townhouse and start organizing the place to their liking. Sara had also dropped some hints about painting a wall or two. Her 'weekend' had started that morning and Grissom expected her to be busily making herself at home in his apartment. So he was surprised and a little anxious when his locked, darkened home turned out to be empty. Anxiety turned into panic when he realized that the boxes he'd been tripping over during the few trips home he'd been able to squeeze into the crazy week were also missing.

After they'd collected the initial evidence on the Bellagio quadruple that had interrupted their first attempt at moving, Grissom had put Catherine in charge so he and Sara could return to her apartment. They had loaded the last two boxes into his car and then driven over to the townhouse. They had quickly piled the boxes in the hallway and living room before returning to help finish up the case.

Sara spent the next few shifts working a string of break-ins with Warrick; they had been wrapping things up when the body was found in the desert, starved, branded and mutilated. Grissom had barely seen Sara since Brass had dropped his bomb about the victim's identity, and when he had seen her it had only been because she was updating him on the status of the rest of the cases coming in. He'd been looking forward to spending time with her, hoping to avoid the issue of Heather, but the silence surrounding him told him that he wasn't going to get his wish.

Sighing, Grissom headed towards his bathroom, stripping off his clothes as he went. He would take a quick shower, rinse off the feeling of dirt and grime, the scent of fear, desperation, and despair, before going to find Sara. If she was having second thoughts, he wasn't going to make it worse by appearing before her covered in the blood of a murdering monster and the tears of a distraught mother.

csicsicsicsi

Sara sat alone in her nearly empty apartment staring at blank walls and stroking her fingers restlessly over a pale blue silk scarf. She hadn't been able to stay in Grissom's townhouse alone. Not when she couldn't quiet the voice in the back of her mind from wondering if he would be coming home alone or if he would, but regret it later. Even a call to Mel hadn't been able to stop the worry. This, their relationship, was still too new for her to be sure, too untested and uncertain for her to anticipate his reactions. So she had retreated back to her sanctuary, her room, the place where she'd spent years questioning both him and herself. But that place was empty with the exception of the still made bed on which she was currently sitting and a few other large pieces of furniture. Her familiar things were no longer there to comfort her and so she twisted her scarf in and around her hands, glad that she'd left packing the bed for last just in case.

Images skittered through her brain, fantasy blending into reality: staring up at Grissom with her hands bound together in front of her, Grissom's hands wrapped tightly around her wrists pressing them back to hover above a bloody sheet, silk ties binding her to her bed, then suddenly she was in control and the same ties were covering Grissom's eyes as she rose above him. But the shadow hovering over her grew bolder and soon it was Lady Heather straddling Grissom as he lay helplessly unaware on Sara's bed. She could only watch, hopeless, as the dominatrix rumored to share a part of Grissom's soul scrapped her nails down his chest. She could tell the moment he sensed the difference, see him arch towards Heather in her mind's eye. Tears streamed down her cheeks as Sara gave in to her insecurities and buried her face in her pillow.

Grissom found her there asleep some time later, tear tracks still distinguishable when he stroked his hands over her cheeks to brush her hair back from her face. For a moment he debated just crawling in beside her, but he knew that that wouldn't solve anything. Instead he continued to brush his fingers over her cheek and he dropped a light kiss on her forehead as he whispered in her ear.

"Sara, honey, wake up please."

Still half trapped in dreams Sara rolled away from Grissom onto her back. Her eyes fluttered open and her fingers tightened on the scarf she still clutched.

"Grissom?" Her voice was raspy with sleep and tears. "You're really here?"

One hand uncurled and reached up to brush his cheek and smooth silk caught briefly on his beard before dropping to her stomach.

"Yes I'm really here. Where else would I…" Understanding dawned on him and he looked away, flushing faintly. "Is that why all your boxes were gone? We really do need to talk, don't we?"

He turned from her and scrubbed his hands over his face. He really was too tired, both physically and emotionally, to do this properly now. He sighed and started to rise, but a light touch on his arm stopped him.

"Later," Sara murmured. "We both need to sleep first."

She wiggled slightly away from him and patted the bed beside her. Unsure, Grissom turned to look at her. Sleep still clouded her eyes, but the invitation there was clear and he gave in to his need to be comforted in turn. Kicking off his shoes, Grissom stood briefly and turned to slide into Sara's bed. At first he kept to his side, waiting for Sara to move up against him, but then he remembered her surprise at seeing him in her apartment. This would be up to him. He leaned toward her and gently placed his hand on her hip.

"Can I hold you?"

He couldn't tell whether it was merely his request or the emotion riding his voice which had her rolling onto her side and backing up to tuck herself firmly along his body. The hand which had been resting on her hip slipped forward and he wiggled his fingers into the gap between her shirt and her pants until he could feel the unmarred smoothness of her skin. He lifted his head briefly to kiss her cheek and then he settled his head on to the pillow beside her. They were both fully asleep minutes later.

csicsicsi

An overwhelming heat and lack of oxygen woke Sara from restless sleep. At some point she had rolled from her side to her stomach; Grissom had followed her and his body pinning her to her mattress was both the source of the heat and reason for her inability to breathe. She shifted, uncomfortable now that she was awake, and tried to slide out from under his solid weight. She had managed to shift enough to breathe more easily when she felt Grissom stir above her. The pressure on her increased briefly before it was removed completely as he rolled off her. Sara stopped moving away from Grissom and rolled back in the opposite direction to face him and found him also lying on his side, staring at her.

"Sorry about that." Grissom broke the silence as he gestured between them. "Didn't mean to squash you."

She shrugged and broke eye contact. "You were asleep. I didn't mean to wake you up. I just couldn't breath."

When long minutes later there was still no response from Grissom, Sara finally looked up at him and saw what she'd been dreading for a month now. His eyes were open, but he was no longer seeing her. The distance between them was back, with a vengeance.

"Griss?" His empty eyes tracked to her, but there was no connection. "I meant that literally, not figuratively."

"Which is why you weren't home." His voice was distant and pained and his eyes closed.

"I wasn't sure you'd want me to be there when you got back," she whispered.

Grissom rolled away to sit upright, with his back to her.

"I wouldn't have asked you to move in if I'd wanted to come home to anyone else." He pressed his hands to his forehead and rose as he spoke. "I should go. Keep your key; you can use it to get the rest of your stuff back."

"Grissom, Stop! Get back here. You are NOT allowed to walk out of here like that." Her voice was low and deadly as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and rolled to her feet as he paused by her door. Dropping the scarf that she had managed to hold onto as she slept; Sara strode towards Grissom keeping the commanding tone in her voice. "Did I tell you to go? I believe I asked you to stay."

She laid a hand on his shoulder and turned him to face her. Slender fingers brushed across his shoulders and up his neck, trailing teasingly through his beard to frame his face.

"Stop running from me Griss."

"You left first." Anger was beginning to creep in under the despair. "My townhouse was empty; it's never felt empty before."

"Griss," Sara sighed. "I moved the boxes into your bug room."

She dropped her hands from his face and backed two steps away from him. She spoke again, the sad, quiet words echoing in her bedroom.

"If we can't trust each other, trust ourselves…this is never going to work. And neither of us has been doing a very good job of it." She turned from him and ran her fingers along the edge of her bed as she stared blindly across the room. "I'm sorry I didn't believe enough to wait at the townhouse. I just…Brass kept asking me how I was doing, Catherine kept giving me these looks, and Greg was just…quiet. I kept seeing their worried faces as I tried to unpack."

She choked on a small sob and Grissom suddenly felt himself moving forward. His hands dropped down on her shoulders and he felt the fine trembling which hadn't been noticeable before. He stroked soothingly over her shoulders and down her arms. When her fingers linked through his and she tugged his arms around her, he stepped forward to press himself along her back.

"I'm sorry, I panicked when I realized that you weren't home and the boxes had been moved," he whispered as he bent to lay a kiss on her bare neck. "It's been a rough few days. It's not easy to watch someone you respect break and not be able to do anything about it. It was hard with Heather, but it was harder back when it was you and I was helpless. Thinking about coming home to you kept me going."

Sara's head fell back onto Grissom's shoulder and her eyes closed on a sigh. Tilting her head to place her lips just below his beard, she spoke.

"Griss," she couldn't help but smile as she felt his involuntary response to the nickname. "What was… is it about Heather?"

Not exactly the question she'd intended to ask, but she wasn't sure she really wanted to know if he'd slept with the dominatrix. She could feel his pulse jump and his breath hitch under her lips and his fingers tighten around hers as her question registered. He calmed as he thought and before he spoke he slipped one of his hands free to stroke up her opposite arm, brushing his forearm over her breasts. His thumb pressed circles into her shoulder.

"She was…the epitome of poise and control at a time when I felt like I was loosing mine. She has an uncanny ability to understand people and anticipate their needs and reactions. But she does it without engaging her emotions. She fascinated me physically, intellectually, but she never demanded, simply by being, that I care for her, share myself with her…so, for a while, it was easier, simpler, to be around her.

Sara turned in his embrace so that she could look up at him. His eyes were unfocused, still remembering, analyzing. When she touched his cheek lightly, he turned down to her and she watched him return to their present. He would have spoken again, still half lost in thought, but she placed her fingers lightly on his lips. She didn't speak until she was sure she had his complete attention.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I understand; I guess. Well, at least part of it. I still don't get why you were running from your emotions in the first place, but I can see how that would appeal to you."

Sara placed a light kiss on Grissom's cheek before sitting on her bed, looking up at him, unsure of where to go from there, of how to move on. She felt around blindly behind her until she found her scarf, needing something to do to help reduce the nervous tension brought on by their conversation. Her mind followed what he had said, understood why he, of all people, would react that way, but her heart still ached, afraid that he would run again. She dragged the scarf forward to rest on her lap, running it back and forth between her hands. His eyes followed the movement like a snake follows the sway of a charmer's pipe. A subtle change in the quality of his silence caused Sara to look up from her hands and she felt her body come alive at the intensity in his gaze. Her hands trembled and her skin tingled as she watched him watch her caress the silken expanse of cloth.

"Do you want to tie me down Griss?" Her voice, low and smoky, seemed to slide over every inch of his body, rubbing his nerves raw, while the nervous half-laugh at the end pulled at his heart. The images her question conjured in his mind tightened every muscle in his body until he ached and his breath released on a moan that was her name.

"Sara."

His voice stopped the play of the cloth as fingers dug into thighs. Those same treacherous fingers stroked unconsciously upwards and inwards until she was almost touching herself before large hands clamped around her wrists stopping her. Grissom stepped forward between her legs, nudging them apart to make room for himself. He raised her hands above her head as he leaned over and pressed her back into the mattress.

"You don't have to do this." He growled into her neck, his attempt at self-control evident. "My affinity for Heather doesn't relate to my predilections."

The anger, pain, and uncertainty of moments ago flowed out of Sara at the hint of annoyance in his possessive response, leaving a sense of humor and triumph in its place. She smiled as she levered herself against the mattress to get her legs up and wrapped around his waist.

"I believe I asked you to tape me up long before she was an issue."

CSICSICSICSI

She knew it was childish, but she wanted to run through the lab shouting in celebration. She'd just solved her first case as an official Las Vegas criminalist. Of course Grissom and Nick had had more than just a small a hand in it, but still, it felt good. They'd driven back to the lab together after the confrontation at the Garris' house to finish up the paperwork and now Sara wanted to celebrate, not just solving the case but her move to Vegas as well.

After finishing up the Holly Gibbs case and making sure that Grissom had truly meant his invitation to stay, Sara had taken a week off to get her things in order. Her short trip back to San Francisco to pack up the rest of her stuff had been painful, which she'd been expecting, given Mel's reaction to the news, but still hoping to avoid. Instead of being able to share her excitement about the move and her joy at beginning a relationship with Grissom with her roommate and best friend, she'd found a curt note and an empty apartment.

"Have fun in Vegas. Sorry I had to work."

So she'd boxed her things by herself and left them for the movers to pack into a truck headed for Vegas before going into the San Francisco lab for the last time.

"Gary, thank you, for everything. I've learned a lot here." She was going to miss the soft-spoken, strong-willed man who'd started out as a boss and become a mentor.

"But now it's time for you to move on. Never figured we'd get to keep you for too long. You're too good not to be working for the best. Mel's out in the field at the moment, but she should be back soon if you're looking to say 'good bye' before you go."

Sara smiled ruefully.

"She's not exactly talking to me at the moment."

"Ah. Well, have a safe trip and don't forget to visit."

"Thanks again Gary."

Sara had given him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, before walking out into a faint sea breeze, for the last time. With a sigh, she'd eased herself into her car and headed off to uncharted territory.

Now here she was, in Vegas, having solved the first case she'd been assigned and nobody was around to help celebrate. Sara wandered the lab looking for the rest of the team to invite them out. Warrick and Catherine had disappeared, not that either of them had particularly warmed to her, but they were part of the short list of people she knew in this town. Nick was in the DNA lab with the tech, she thought his name might have been Greg. As she turned the corner and reached for the glass door to the lab, a tingle down her spine alerted her to Grissom's presence. Hand still on the door; she half turned to face him, unsure as to the limits of their new relationship.

"Hey Griss."

He glanced quickly over her shoulder at the two men talking animatedly behind her before speaking.

"Sara, I was hoping to catch you before you left. I'd like to take you out to officially welcome you to Las Vegas."

"Oh, well I was going to ask the team if they wanted to…"

"Actually, I was hoping that maybe it could be…just… the two of us."

This time Sara was the one to glance around quickly. She dropped a hand lightly on his shoulder and squeezed quickly before removing her hand. Just being close to him was overwhelming her. She'd been fighting the urge to drag him into a supply closet since she'd seen the spark in his eyes as he'd bound her hands together with duct tape.

"I'd like that." She smiled and stepped away from the DNA lab door. "Shall we?"

Grissom gestured her forward with one hand, resting the other lightly on the small of her back as she stepped in front of him. The tingle that had announced his arrival turned into full blown shivers as the fingers on her back refused to stay still.

"Are you cold?" Grissom teased as they entered the locker room to gather their things.

Sara resisted the impulse to stick her tongue out at him and settled for rolling her eyes instead. She paused a moment in front of her locker in an attempt to remember the combination before opening it up and pulling out her purse and a light jacket.

"So where are we going? Do I need to change?"

Grissom looked Sara over slowly, taking in her maroon tank and snug fitting jeans.

"Nope, you're fine the way you are."

He slammed shut his locker and turned towards the exit. When he noticed that Sara wasn't with him he stopped and began to pivot back to her.

"Coming?"

"Yeah, I just…"

Sara's reply was cut short as the locker room door flew open and smacked into Grissom's left shoulder, Nick close behind.

"Oh crap! Man, Grissom, I'm sorry!"

Grissom grimaced and held his arm to his chest while he rubbed his injured shoulder with his other hand.

"I'm fine Nick."

Sara's undignified snort interrupted him and he glared at her falsely innocent expression.

"I was just on my way home anyways."

"Grissom, I'm not sure you should drive if it hurts that much. I can give you a lift," Nick offered.

Grissom looked to Sara for help, begging her to help him turn Nick down without offending the younger man or starting rumors.

She sighed then spoke. "I got it Nick. I was actually going to ask Griss if I could stop by his place anyways. I need to pick up some stuff he was letting me store at his place 'til I got settled."

"Oh, well as long as you're okay with it." He shrugged. "I'll, uh, see you guys tomorrow then. It was nice working with you today Sara." He grinned wide enough for it to reach his eyes.

"Thanks Nick. I think I'm going to like it here." She flirted back, grinning, helpless to completely resist the Texan's charms.

Grissom cleared his throat.

"I'd like to get going, if you two don't mind."

The younger CSIs rolled their eyes and Nick stepped aside to let Sara and Grissom exit the locker room.

"So where are we going?" Sara asked as she followed Grissom out of the lab into the late morning sun.

"I guess you'll just have to follow me to find out," he teased.

"Griss are you sure you're…"

"I'm fine Sara. A little sore, probably bruised, but I didn't dislocate it. I can drive."

Sara looked him over closely, noting the faint lines of pain around his eyes and the firm set of his lips. She decided that any arguments would fall on deaf ears at this point.

"Lead on then."

csicsicsicsi

Sara wasn't sure where she had expected Grissom to be taking her, but she certainly hadn't expected him to turn away from the glitzy heart of Las Vegas and head towards the quiet more residential neighborhoods. Never the less, she'd followed him onto progressively smaller and less crowded streets until they could have been driving through any suburb in America. They'd pulled into a small condominium complex and parked near a more isolated end unit. It was obvious to her as Grissom strode confidently up the front walk, keys out, where they were, but she waited silently for him to state the obvious.

He opened the door and ushered her inside, before speaking. "Is this all right?"

Sara glanced around her, taking in the living room, small dinning area and kitchen, the walls still their original apartment beige dotted with colorful displays of butterflies and the occasional framed painting. Dragging her attention back to Grissom, who was subtly shifting his weight from on foot to the other, she smiled to put him at ease.

"I thought you were going to take me out somewhere." She laughed as his lips turned down in the beginnings of a frown. "It's perfect Griss, but I'm not really hungry right now."

She stepped forward and kissed him lightly on the lips brushing her hand over his cheek in the process. When she pulled back from the kiss to breathe Grissom captured the hand that drew back from his face and stepped around her heading towards the stairs, tugging her along behind.

csicsicsi

Grissom ran his hand through his hair, settling it, as he walked into the lab. He was early, but he'd found since being named the interim shift supervisor that he got the most paperwork done before shift started. He wasn't sure how well that strategy was going to work today given how tired he was. He hadn't intended for Sara to stay the night when he'd brought her back to his home for dinner, but once she'd been there he'd been loathe to see her go. So she'd stayed, spent the night in his bed, her scent working its way into his pillows, her smile worming its way into his heart. It had felt awkward at first, letting Sara into his space, but then she'd smiled at him and kissed him and he'd been glad that an extra hour in the crock pot couldn't hurt his mother's pasta sauce.

Grissom sighed at the rapidly multiplying stack of paperwork on the desk. Rearranging the piles he sat down, picked up his favorite pen and began signing his name over and over. He had just settled into a rhythm when Conrad Ecklie stalked into the room.

"Gil! I believe you were told to get rid of Brown. Why was he here during my shift this morning?"

Grissom looked up at the dayshift supervisor over the top of his glasses. "I assume he was finishing up his case from last night; it was a hit and run."

"Just be careful. Between the way you're babying Brown and the fact that you brought your girlfriend in to investigate him in the first place, people are going to start complaining that your CSIs get special treatment. The lab needs someone to whip the nightshift into shape, but it doesn't need them."

Ecklie turned and walked from the office before Grissom was able to formulate a response to his allegations. The silence left in Ecklie's wake echoed accusingly in Grissom's ears, blotting out the memory of Sara's low, pleased laughter. He sat in the stillness absorbing the accusations and threats laced into such a short statement. He was still sitting in the same position, pen poised motionless over paper, when Catherine's brash knock pulled him back.

"It works better when the pen actually touches the paper."

Grissom sighed and placed the pen down on the desk.

"Was there something you needed Catherine?"

"An assignment."

He glanced up at the clock above her head and realized that he'd lost almost an hour to futile contemplation. He rose and gathered a small stack of slips from among the other papers.

"Gil, have you given any thought to making this supervisor thing a permanent change?"

"Someone needs to do it." He wasn't ready to have this conversation with anyone yet, so he walked around Catherine and out of the office, straight into Sara.

The collision tripped Sara up and she crashed into Grissom, forcing him back against the doorframe. His hands closed tightly on her waist and her hair brushed across his cheek as he tried to catch her. The desire to keep her there rushed through him, but Ecklie's visit was too fresh in his mind, so he pushed her away, abruptly jerking his hands from her.

Sara's expression turned from cheerful to puzzled as she settled herself back onto her own two feet. As she tried to make sense of Grissom's guarded expression she fought down the impulse to pin him back to the doorway and pull answers from him, but Catherine pushed her way between them as she exited the office behind Grissom.

"You really should watch where you're going Gil." Catherine walked off down the hall towards the break room.

Sara started to speak, but Grissom interrupted her.

"Not here," he commanded as he placed his hands on her hips, turned her around and pushed her after Catherine. He felt the involuntary tensing of her muscles at his dominant tone and his eyes darkened as he remembered the feel of that tension under him as he pinned her body between his and a soft mattress. He had a feeling that it was an image that would haunt him for a long time.

CSICSICSI

For years he had held onto the memory of Sara pinned beneath him, giving up her control to him, her strength bending to his will, and now it was happening again. Her lithe legs were wrapped around his waist; his hands pinning hers to the bed. This moment separated from memory there because tonight there was still anger and uncertainty in the air from their aborted discussion. He knew he should be talking to Sara, trying to convey the multitude of thoughts crowding his mind, but the temptation of her lips was too great, and he'd never been able to communicate emotions well with the spoken word.

So instead of telling her that he loved her he was trailing kisses down her neck, over her collar bone, and down along the scoop of her top. Leaving one hand on her wrists, Grissom slid his other hand down the planes of her body to slip under her top and push the cloth up, exposing more of her silken skin. He lifted his lips from her chest and arched his back so that he could reach the newly exposed expanse of her stomach, but that position quickly became uncomfortable for him. He stood up and contemplated the sight before him.

"Sit up."

Sara pulled her arms down from above her head and pushed herself up, unwrapping her legs from around Grissom and scooting back on the bed. Her hands came down to help him as he pulled her shirt the rest of the way over her head. He lifted her scarf from the bed as she positioned herself. When her hands began to slip behind her back to unhook her bra he spoke.

"Sara…"

She stopped and looked up at him questioningly.

"I…"

But once again his words deserted him. Luckily, she seemed to understand at least part of what he was asking and after shuffling quickly out of her bra, she held her hands out to him, palms down. Grissom forced himself not to stare at her breasts. He wound the strip of cloth in and out around her wrists tight enough to restrict movement, but not circulation. When he finished he looked up from her hands.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Griss," she sighed, half in exasperation, as she lay back down on the bed, positioning her hands above her head.

He stripped off his own shirt and then climbed onto the bed beside her. Bending over her he kissed her solidly on the mouth, teeth nipping and tongues tangling. As he came up for air he whispered in her ear.

"Thank you."

Sara's breath rushed out on a moan as Grissom flattened his tongue and stroked it over the hardened bud of her nipple. Her body tingled and trembled as he continued to worship her breasts with his mouth. She itched to feel his skin under her fingertips, to scrape her nails his spine, but she held back, playing by the rules she'd agreed to when she held her hands out to him. Long calloused fingers stroked down her side and Sara lifted her hips to press into the touch. His hand brushed over the front of her jeans and slipped between her thighs to press intimately against her. His mouth followed the path of his fingers, down over her stomach to the edge of her pants.

"Griss."

Sara melted as he stroked up to pop the button on her jeans and ease the zipper down. Grissom hooked his fingers under the cloth of her underwear and slid them down her long, toned legs along with her pants. She brought her hands forward to rest in her lap as she sat up enough to watch him as he shucked off his khakis and boxers. He was fully aroused and she wanted to touch him, ached to feel the solid heft of him in her hands once again. But her hands remained bound and motionless as he knelt on the bed between her legs. He placed a light kiss at the juncture of her thighs, stroking quickly with his tongue, before sliding up her body. Grissom lifted her hands and draped them around his neck so that she had something to hold onto, to anchor herself with, as he pressed into her.

"Oh, Griss."

Her nails dug into his shoulder blades as he filled her and he paused, lodged fully inside her, until her hips began to rock against him. Grissom matched his pace to hers; supporting himself on one hand and using the other tease her with random touches. Sara moved faster as the sensations built, striving towards the pleasure she knew awaited her in his arms. As they both neared the edge, Grissom slipped his hand down to where they were joined and teased her to climax.

"Gil!" He followed shortly behind her as she called out his name in pleasure. His head dropped to her shoulder in his release and his lips brushed her neck as her fingers unclenched to smooth over his back. In that quiet, perfect moment of serenity Grissom finally found his voice.

"I love you Sara."

* * *

TBC… 


	3. Valentine's Victory

Chapter 3: Valentine's Victory  
PhDelicious

Disclaimer: I have no rights to the characters borrowed from CBS, Zucker, et al.

* * *

Emotionally exhausted, physically sated, and warm from Grissom's arms around her, Sara hovered happily between sleep and consciousness until those four small words, so rarely heard in her life, jolted her wide awake. Every muscle in her body tensed and her brain momentarily ceased to function. She'd dreamed about such a moment for years, never really expecting that it would come, and now that it had, words abandoned her and her heart broke just a little at the fact that she couldn't reply in kind. Sara turned her head from him to hide the tears forming treacherously in her eyes.

That small movement seemed to amplify her silence and Grissom drew back, raising his head from her shoulder and his chest off hers. A hand gently brushed some wayward hairs back from her face and Sara's tears began to fall in earnest. Leaning all his weight on his other hand Grissom turned her to look at him, but she kept her eyes firmly shut. It was a child's reaction; if she didn't look she wouldn't see the pain of rejection in his eyes and he wouldn't be able to misunderstand the shock, fear and hurt in hers.

"Sara? Honey?" The hand that skimmed over her cheeks, trailing through her tears trembled like his voice. "Sara, what's wrong?"

She couldn't resist the caress of his concerned voice and her eyes slid open. As she focused on the pale blue above her, Sara wished she had kept them shut. The anguish in his eyes only amplified her own. She tried to keep her emotions out of her eyes, but the mask she had used too many times in the past five years failed her and he pulled back sharply trying to distance himself from the source of his pain.

They had both forgotten that her bound hands still circled his neck, and his attempted escape failed as his movements jolted her from where she lay on her bed. The harsh tug on her shoulders caused a small whimper of pain to fall from her lips. Closing his eyes on a sigh Grissom moved closer to her and helped her to sit up against the headboard. Together they eased her arms over his head and settled them in her lap. Silence continued to reign as he worked to untie her hands, business like movements gradually morphing into caresses.

He was sitting facing her, her scarf draped loosely over her forearms and his thumbs rubbing circles over the pulse in her wrists, when her voice returned.

"Griss, I'm sorry." She watched his thumbs still and his grip tighten as she spoke. She rushed on, not wanting him to pull away again. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you the answer you were hoping for. I just…so much has happened since I came to Vegas."

Pulling one hand from his grasp, Sara shifted away from the headboard and closer to him. She reached out tentatively with her free hand and laid it lightly on his cheek. When he did not pull away she applied a subtle pressure to lift his head so that she could see his eyes.

"I was already half in love with the Gil Grissom I knew when I showed up to see you watching dummies fall from a roof, and that first night was everything I'd been dreaming of since you'd left San Francisco. Those first few months were so perfect that I found myself starting to imagine how things could be, making plans for the future, our future together, even if we decided to keep things just between us forever. But then you went to dinner with Terri and suddenly I was alone again."

CSICSICSICSI

"Grissom?"

The quiet voice pulled him from the evidence he had been examining. He turned from the corkboard timeline in front of him to see Sara hovering in the doorway of the layout room he had taken over for this case. Her expression was neutral, professional, but her body language screamed her uncertainty. As he watched, she seemed to come to a decision and her body tensed as she walked into the room and around the table to stand beside him. He had no idea why she had sought him out so he waited for her to speak.

"Are these for the case you got called in on last night?" She gestured to the specimen jars containing bugs in various stages of development that were spread around him.

"Yes. It's actually a rather simple case, and this particular species is exceptionally hardy. Any amateur could have done the collection, but I guess Vartan didn't want to take that chance. I suppose it's unfair to expect other people to recognize the difference between a scene requiring my presence and one in which it's unnecessary."

"You must have been annoyed."

"No, not really, I…"

She continued to talk over him. "After all, they called you away from a date."

And there it was, the reason she had overcome her nerves and interrupted him at work. He looked nervously around the lab, half of him hoping that no one was present to witness the confrontation he now suspected was coming and the other half desperately hoping that someone would interrupt them. Both parts of him wished that he had had the people skills to have anticipated and forestalled this reaction.

"What the Hell Griss?" Her professional mask had fallen and her eyes flashed fire at him as her voice grew louder.

"Sara, please." He kept his voice low and calm, trying to remind her of their location. "We talked about this."

She gave one harsh bark of laughter. "Not about this we didn't." She looked at the clock behind him on the wall. "Shift's over in ten minutes. I'll meet you at your townhouse in thirty minutes."

"Sara…" He wasn't sure how to word his protest. He didn't want to fight with her at all and most certainly not in his home.

Her eyebrows rose, her expression taunting. "You would rather have this conversation here? Or perhaps somewhere else public?"

He sighed in resignation; she was right. Those were, of course, extremely undesirable scenarios. He was trying to keep this under wraps. "No, fine. Thirty minutes."

She watched him for a few moments longer, but he simply went back to his bugs. He needed to concentrate and work quickly if he was going to meet her demands.

csicsicsi

She arrived at his home before him and let herself in using the spare key he'd given her shortly after she'd moved to Vegas. She needed the feeling of intimacy it gave her to wander through his things alone, needed to assert her position in his life, claim some control of the situation. Not that she expected him to take charge, not her sweet, rather shy, and socially challenged scientist.

But she'd forgotten that he was also a dominant male. He may have chosen to lead by loyalty and example instead of fear, but ultimately he was still in control, which is how she ended up sitting silently on his sofa waiting for him to speak.

He'd arrived about ten minutes after she had, walked quietly into the townhouse and proceeded with his normal routine as if she weren't present. Keys and wallet had been dropped on the entryway table; his briefcase placed on the coffee table. When she'd tried to speak he had merely held up his hand in a gesture that demanded silence and disappeared into the kitchen. He'd reappeared shortly there after with a bottle of water and settled himself into his favorite arm chair, feet propped beside the briefcase. When the water bottle was almost empty, he began to speak without looking at her.

"Sara, I may not be the best at this stuff, but I know we talked about this back when I took the supervisor position permanently. You told me that it would be best for everyone if I took the job. You convinced me that we could keep this separate from work, that we could hide it from the others." He turned his eyes quickly to her and then away. "So, why…"

She waited for him to finish the thought, but he just sat there studying the grain patterns of the wooden table top.

"You thought everything was going well, so why am I so upset?" She looked to him for confirmation and he nodded faintly. "Griss, you went on a date with another woman. Letting everyone think you're single, fine. Flirting with other women, annoying, but fine. Taking another woman to diner, NOT okay!" Sara took a deep breath and tried to calm herself, but Grissom's next words only added fuel to the fire.

"You go out with the guys all the time."

"Yes. Guys, as in plural and you and Catherine are always invited. Everyone goes straight from work and we all go home alone. God, Griss," she sighed and slumped back on his couch. His jaw worked as though he intended to speak, but she pressed on. "I thought we were beyond this. I know you can't acknowledge our relationship at work and we can't go out because someone might see us. But I thought this was going somewhere, that I was more than just a convenient fuck. Apparently I was wrong."

He watched as she pushed herself from the sofa and paced across the room. She stopped with her back to him, standing in front of the sliding glass doors which led out the back of his townhouse, staring into space.

"Sara, I…I'm sorry. I like Teri, but I didn't call her in on this case. Catherine did."

"If Catherine had taken her to diner we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"And if I hadn't taken her to diner I would never have heard the end of it from Catherine."

"At least now I know what your priorities are."

"She would've kept asking awkward questions about why I hadn't taken Teri out until I gave her an answer she believed."

Sara whirled to face him. "And you couldn't just tell her you weren't interested? Or that Teri didn't have time before her flight?"

Grissom's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe she'd heard about that.

"What? You didn't think that people would talk about this? You asked her to change her flight in the middle of the lab."

It was probably the single most impulsive thing he'd done in his adult life, beating out his phone call asking Sara to come to Vegas. It had been a momentary lapse in judgment. He'd enjoyed Teri's wit, admired her insights into their case, and for just a moment the sense of loneliness that increasingly pervaded his life had ebbed. Somehow being with Sara, without truly being able to be with her was making him feel more alone than being a bachelor ever had. He had no good answer for her; but she seemed to find his silence to be answer enough and turned away from him again.

"Oh. I see. You were interested. I guess it's not surprising. She's a beautiful intelligent woman, your peer, your equal. Being seen with her could only be a good thing. Me, I'm young, idealistic, your impulsive subordinate. It doesn't matter that I'm one of the best CSIs in this lab; being linked with me can only destroy your reputation. Who wouldn't be tempted in that situation?"

Her body seemed to be collapsing in on itself; her lithe frame crumbling under the weight of her anger and pain. He itched to go to her, to lay his hands on her and rebuild her, but he didn't.

"I said I was sorry."

"What if it had been me Griss? What if I had gone out with Warrick or Nick or Greg or David for real?"

This time he couldn't hold himself back; as her voice broke Grissom surged out of his chair and crossed the room to stand behind her. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders.

"I would've hated it."

She seemed to sink into his touch, and he started to relax, thinking that maybe they would be able to get past his stupidity. But then she tensed, her moment of weakness over, and stepped out from under his hands. She rested one hand on the smooth glass for support as she turned to face him. The look in her eyes, broken but determined, sent shivers of dread down his spine.

"I was wrong. I can't do this. I will not be the person you use to scratch an itch until something better comes along. If you'd had more respect for me, for yourself, or for our history this might have worked. But I refuse to be your dirty little secret. That would destroy me more completely than any blow to my career."

He started to step forward, to touch her again, to explain that he wasn't ashamed of her, but of himself. But she held up her hands to warn him off.

"Don't touch me! I have to go. I'm taking a sick day tonight."

She pushed around him and headed for the door. He called out to her as her hand landed on the knob.

"Will I…Are you…"

She paused and looked back over her shoulder at him. When he didn't speak again she sighed and turned to the door.

"I'll call later to let you know if I feel well enough to come in tomorrow."

She opened the door as she spoke, leaving without another backwards glance. He remained. Alone in his quiet, neatly ordered home, wondering why it felt as if his life had just come crashing down around him.

csicsicsicsi

Except for the lone rebellious tear that had made its way down her cheek as she'd climbed into her car at Grissom's, Sara had managed not to cry until she was safely in the privacy of her apartment. Once she'd closed her door firmly behind her, the damn broke and body wracking sobs had her collapsed against the hallway wall before she made it to her bedroom. When she had cried herself out of tears, she forced herself from the floor and tumbled into bed, tucking the ratty old teddy bear that usually sat on the bedside table under her chin. She was exhausted, but sleep was a long time in coming as her mind began to obsess over what to do next. Eventually she got tired of thinking herself in circles and drifted off into a restless sleep.

Sara awoke exhausted, but with a renewed sense of purpose. She had decided on a course of action. Going back to San Francisco was out, not that Gary wouldn't have been happy to have her back, but it didn't feel like home anymore. The scent of cool damp air rolling in off the mountains as the sun set now called to her more strongly than the remembered hint of salt on the morning breeze and the shifting sands of the desert had begun to replace the endless expanse of the sea. She didn't know how long she would be able to stay, some of that would depend on Grissom, but she wasn't ready to leave. There was still plenty for her to learn here, and she wasn't ready to give up on him yet.

Checking the time Sara reached for her phone and dialed the number for Grissom's office. Her hopes to get his voicemail were shattered as an all too familiar voice greeted her.

"Grissom"

"Hi, um, I said I'd call."

"Sara…"

It was just her name, but the way he said it was anything but simple.

"I just wanted to let you know that I _will_ be in next shift, without my two weeks notice."

"Thank you. We should…can I…"

"Not yet. We both need time to figure out how we ended up here. I meant what I said; I want to be with you, but I can't do it like this. I'll see you tomorrow Grissom."

She hung up the phone before he could even say goodbye.

CSICSICSICSI

"Grissom, after everything, all the time, all the bullshit, why now? I've been more upset than I was about Mel being in the hospital. I've come closer to being seriously injured that I was when that car backed into the Tahoe. What was different this time?"

One of his large hands rose to press over hers on his cheek.

"Sara, I…" He stopped. There was nothing. He couldn't think of a single thing to say. He could pin point no specific impetus for this change. It had been building for years. Ever since he'd lost her he'd longed for the brief moment of happiness they'd had together, dreamed about getting her back. But his insecurities had repeatedly sabotaged him and he'd only managed to make things worse. What had been different that day? "I don't have a good answer for you."

"Come on Griss, you must have thought about it."

"Uh, no." He hadn't thought about it before, but he was thinking about it now. Sara's expression convinced him to think aloud. Maybe if he considered his actions as he would a suspect's he could find them both some answers. "We weren't at the lab or a scene or around people from work."

"True, but that's not the first time that's happened." He could tell she wasn't sure where he was going with this, or if she really wanted to know, but she continued. "You've even been to my apartment more than once in the past few years."

Grissom considered that. "But never without work being involved somehow."

She seemed to be waiting for more so he attempted to explain.

"When you got pulled over, I came down to the station because it was you, but they'd called me because I was your supervisor. You were upset and embarrassed and I, I didn't want to make things worse."

"And during my suspension?"

"There were things that, as your boss, I needed to know. The rest of it…I wanted to hold you so badly." His eyes seemed to focus beyond her as he remembered. "But I didn't have that right."

"Griss…" She started to speak, to correct him, but surprisingly he had more to say.

"You'd just told me this huge secret, and I wasn't sure how to handle it. God, Sara…you know the things we see every day, and how much some people take before they snap the way your mother did. Part of me started cataloging all of the things that could've happened to you and it made me sick. I thought maybe you wouldn't want to be touched given the memories I'd just forced you to revisit. I couldn't make myself move to find out. I wasn't sure you even considered me a friend anymore and I didn't want you to think I was just acting out of pity."

She gave a wry chuckle. "Griss, I'm not sure I've ever considered you a friend."

And that hurt; more than the fact that his unintentional declaration of love had caused her to cry. His hands fell from hers and he scooted back from her, preparing to rise from the bed, heedless of his nudity. Sara didn't fight his instinctive flight response, hugging her knees to her chest as Grissom stood, but he froze with his back to her as she continued to speak.

"No matter how aggravated, or frustrated, or pissed off I was with you, or how distant you tried to make yourself, you were always so much more than a friend. You've always been the man I can't stop loving."

Given everything that had happened to him, to them over the years Grissom couldn't quite bring himself to believe his ears. Could he really be that lucky?

"I love you Griss." He turned back to Sara and their eyes met. This time, instead of multiplying, the pain receded, despite the tears.

He knew what to do, the very thing he'd held himself back from doing for so long. Grissom stepped forward and climbed back onto the bed beside her. One sturdy arm looped around her shoulders as he pulled her tight against him. "I love you Sara. This time we'll make it work, together."

Somewhere in a neighboring apartment, a clock chimed but neither of them noticed as they began their first Valentine's Day together wrapped tightly in each other's arms.

* * *

The end (of this story) 


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